Dipper's Log
by Lizzy322
Summary: AU of sorts. A grim take on the three days Dipper spent alone during Weirdmaggedon's peak. All he has are the clothes on his back and a walkie talkie to record the horrifying things he sees, and Mabel has to be on the other end. Somewhere. She's gotta be. One-shot.


A/N: 'nother midnight drabble! A bit of a twist/AU, a bit like Playing Pretend. Alternate ending/alternate universe headcanons of sorts of Weirdmaggedon part 1. This focuses on what Dipper could've gone through in those three days in this grim universe...

Definitely take it like an AU. It's...quite darker than I meant it to be. Ah well.

* * *

Running had never felt so exhausting and painful 'til then.

There was a stitch in his side, his left ankle was throbbing with each step, but it was like his legs had a mind of their own. With only one phrase, a repeated mantra Dipper couldn't control.

 _Run away, run away, run away._

It'd become more harried as he raced farther, until all it was was simply _run run run._ He didn't think those monsters Bill sent after him were chasing him anymore. To be fair, he wouldn't be a fairly satisfying meal, as the lanky thing he was...but there was a continued burning feeling in his chest, a trepidation hanging over him he couldn't shake off.

He was terrified.

The twelve-year-old finally slowed to a stop, collapsing at the end of a tree, leaning over the dirt-packed floor as he struggled to catch his breath. God, he was shaking so badly...everything hurt...Bill had thrown him so hard, he was almost afraid something was broken and he just felt too numb to fix it.

The sky remained blood-orange, bathing the forest in an eerie light. No sun, just the kaleidoscopic pattern of the rift above, torn across the sky...or what had been the sky. No clouds or sun were visible now.

A biting chilliness was beginning to settle in, threats of nighttime despite no moon to show for it. And for once...Dipper was clueless on any next move. There was no plan. He'd dove in like an idiot, things had completely taken a u-turn and he didn't know where else to go.

He was alone.

Slowly, he reached into his vest, leaning against the tree and feeling the rough bark bite into his back. He withdrew a walkie talkie, the device still usable despite the fall he'd taken. Small miracles.

He pressed the button, a series of crackles his answer, and he lifted the object to his mouth.

"Mabel? Are you there?"

No answer. Just constant static.

"Mabel...Mabel, are you okay?"

Still no answer. But that didn't stop him.

"Mabel...Grunkle Ford is captured. Bill froze him to gold. Bill burnt the journals. I don't know what to do...Mabel, I need your help, please..."

She was his incentive. His will to continue on. He prayed to whatever deity that existed-other than Bill who was probably trying to declare himself as such-that she'd answer, safe and ready to reunite.

His only response was static.

Forlornly, he tucked the device back into his vest. He'd try later. Maybe...maybe she was just busy. Perhaps she'd found a group to hide with! She'd certainly be the one to do that...ever the leader, ever the encouraging one...

Dipper shifted the cap on his head, before letting his chin fall to the top of his chest and his knees draw upward. Curled into a ball, as inconspicuous as possible. He shut his eyes, letting his muscles relax, trying to shut away the bruises and scrapes he'd received from the spacecraft and the explosion and the retaliation from Bill.

He slowly drifted off into darkness despite the chaos beginning around him.

* * *

"...it's night one."

Dipper held the walkie talkie inches from his chin, struggling to balance himself on a branch. He was barely succeeding, his legs really the only thing giving him support, only one of his elbows hooked around said branch as an anchor.

"I was sleeping, Mabel. Then something came after me," he explained, as if simply relaying a scary experience in the woods to his sister back in the coziness of the attic. "Oh, god, I don't know what it is...even the journal never said anything about it. You think Ford never found it or maybe it's just a creation of...whatever this whole mess is?"

Silence. With a sigh, Dipper imagined an excited chirpy response from his twin. If only the static wasn't there to remind him of the truth.

"It had a lot of teeth...huge claws like knives. I'm not kidding, they were enormous! It had a really long tail too...I would've tried befriending it or something to look at it, but it almost ate me. Thankfully, it can't climb trees."

 _Dipper, you dummy!_ He envisioned his sister giggling out. _You need food for that to happen! He was probably just hungry. Only glittery stickers and lotsa junk food can solve that much grumpiness!_

"I hope you're sleeping well," Dipper muttered, resting his cheek against the branch. "I'm tired. I'm still in the tree. I don't know if it's left. ...good night."

No answer.

* * *

"It's d-day two."

Dipper knelt behind an overturned car, the remains of the town surrounding him and resembling more rubble than buildings. A fire crackled somewhere. There was an acidic scent in the air that was a mixture of smoke and ash and who knew what else.

"There's these weird...bat eye things flying around." Dipper explained. "The town's deserted. I don't really know where anyone is...I don't know where you are. I don't know where Stan is. Ford is with Bill..." Simply saying the words made him feel a bit better, but his grip on the device tightened as he recalled what he'd just seen.

"...I don't know Bill's motives, Mabel. The bat eyes are turning people to stone and taking them away. Everyone's terrified." He swallowed hard. "One...one person tried to shoot themselves before the bat eye took them. They...they succeeded." Another swallow, before it stuck in his throat and came out as a sob. It was terrible. A terrible thing to witness, to see desperation so raw.

Then again, who'd want to confront Bill?

Hell, he would've done the same thing if he had been alone.

"...but I am alone."

No.

No, he wouldn't.

With a firm shake of his head, he lowered the walkie talkie. He couldn't dwell on that. He'd make it out of this. For Mabel, for Stan, for Ford. For himself.

His stomach growled and he clutched at it helplessly. It'd been bothering him all day, weakening him considerably.

Avoid the eyeball bats. Find food. Stay alive.

"I know what I'm gonna do. I'm gonna find food," he stated firmly into the device, before hearing a scream down the road. Blood-curdling, almost inhumane. It very well could be. "...I hope you've eaten, Mabel. Bye."

* * *

"...Mabel, Mabel, I'm scared..."

Quiet sobs escaped the boy twin as he pawed at his chin, trying to wipe off the blood that was there. There was a bad taste in his mouth, but his stomach was full. That was the perk. The good side of things.

But he didn't feel very good.

"Mabel...Mabel, I was so hungry..." He whined out, splaying out his fingers before him. Coated in stark red blood, standing out amongst pale skin, a metallic taste in his mouth. But he was full. He had eaten. He was alive.

"I f-found some survivors," he stuttered, tears trickling down his cheeks. He was shivering, his back against the brick wall, the alley serving as his temporary sanctuary. He wanted to sleep, his body wanted to sleep, but his mind still could barely comprehend what he'd done. "...they...they didn't have food. But they had a fire...they had..." He swallowed hard, another choked sob escaping him. He broke off, lowering his head and placing his forehead against the walkie talkie, cool plastic against his skin.

The survivors he'd run into had had a fire going. He had begged for food. They said they didn't have any. But that he could wait and they might have some.

And eventually they did receive what they regarded as food.

The twelve-year-old had sat in shock as a few people brought in a corpse of a person...shot, apparently, in what might've been a scuffle over supplies or territory. He'd watched in horror as they brightened their fire, removed the person's belongings, chattering about how they'd finally get to eat.

Dipper couldn't bring himself to do it. He couldn't...couldn't just eat...eventually, he'd rushed off to the street before stumbling over a dead cat. He had gathered the animal in his arms and wandered back to the fire, claiming he wanted to eat the dead feline instead. The survivors had merely shrugged and agreed to cooking it for him. Since Dipper wasn't technically eating their supply, they had treated him with indifference.

He had stayed in a corner, watching as they roasted what had been...he couldn't even think about it. He'd eaten the half-cooked remains of that cat, nearly vomiting twice, mostly by the sight of those survivors devouring what wasn't supposed to be food.

But these were desperate times.

And it called for desperate measures.

The boy twin sniffed, gathering his composure as he lifted his head. He still felt weak, his knees were shaking, his heart was beating rapidly...

"But I ate, Mabel!" Dipper chirped, trying to sound triumphant even with the blood on his hand, the thick feeling settling in his stomach, the gruesome images forever engraved in his mind. "I ate...I'm surviving! I'm not gonna...gonna be like that guy they...cook...c...I'm okay!"

They were words that spurred him on, despite being said by himself. If only he could hear Mabel's voice...ensure she was alright. Know she was there.

He was scared.

Finally, the details past his mouth and hanging in the air, being said to someone, he felt far better. He glanced at the walkie talkie, craving a response, but there was only more empty static.

"I'm gonna try to sleep...I'm tired..." He stated, cracking a small smile. "I'm alive...moving into day three! Good...good night..."

He had no time to cry as his eyes instantly closed from exhaustion.

* * *

"Night two...I can't sleep, Mabel. There's...blood."

The stark bright redness showered down, covering the asphalt and buildings. It was surreal enough to look terrifying, even in the somewhat darkness that passed as night. The occasional burst of lightning occurred.

Dipper shifted under the garbage bag he'd taken shelter under, his small body quivering as the blood poured down. He'd read something about it once...but experiencing it firsthand was a whole different deal. He was glad he hadn't been caught in it...the small awning he'd fallen asleep under meant only his shoes and socks had gotten soaked.

The smell of garbage hardly bothered him, the stuff that could be regarded as nasty now the norm. He was desensitized. He'd eaten a dead cat just to get by...he had no idea where his next meal was coming from or if it would even be a real meal.

He couldn't eat himself, could he? Would eating his own finger cause enough pain to make him pass out? Bleed out? Would it harm more than benefit? At least he'd get food...something to eat, to digest, to-

"Oh, god, Mabel..." He croaked out, as the blood continued to fall. "Mabel, I don't know...I don't know why I'm thinking like this...there's blood rain. Remember that page in the journal? Rain that's blood...it's a lot of blood..."

Still silence.

"...it's like a slaughterhouse."

With those words he ducked his head down, covering himself with the trash bag entirely. Blocking his view of what looked to be the result of some horrific mass murder.

Or maybe just the true reality of what was going on.

* * *

"Day three..."

Dipper leaned against the wooden fence, successfully having avoided being caught by those annoying eye bats. He was glad he hadn't had to travel very far...the trash bag had turned out to be an acceptable sleeping area. He was safe, from both predators, and the sights he'd run into on the streets.

It seemed every time he glanced up, there was a dead body or a crashed car or the remains of a building he had known. Sometimes he saw rubble that looked...different. Stone that had almost a human texture to it. Like the doings of a clumsy eye bat. Unlike Grunkle Ford...stone wasn't as sturdy as gold.

He lifted the walkie talkie, pressing the button like habit by now. "Mabel, it's me. So far I have eluded capture, but I haven't been able to find you or Stan anywhere." His voice dropped, and he lowered his head, determination sparking in his tone. "I don't know if you can hear me...but wherever you are, whatever happens, I'm going to find you."

Without really knowing, truly subconsciously, that's all this was. That's what he'd been enduring the days for. To find Mabel.

"Today is the day I'll find you," he whispered, before tucking the walkie talkie back in his vest. He needed to find her...to reunite. To know she was safe, before he went crazy.

His eyes fell onto the next big building within sight. The mall. The only place that seemed to be mostly intact, unlike the other bigger places that could've been shelter. He'd had to deny so many buildings for fear the roof would collapse on him. A fate he'd already seen happen to a few people. He had grown unsympathetic to that by now though.

"The mall! Maybe you're in there!" He cheered, getting to his feet and racing forward. Blood-stained, thirsty, exhausted, and still shaking, the child shot past the parking lot and up to the glass doors with no hesitation.

However, the doors wouldn't budge.

"Oh, no!" The boy twin groaned, trying to pry open the doors with his fingers. He scrambled for purchase, used the little strength he had left, but only succeeded in tearing a nail off.

"Hey! Hey you..."

A voice boomed from behind him, and Dipper froze in place, fear gripping him like a vice and he turned his head. A large monster, one of Bill's creations, nothing more than a head and a hand crawling towards him like one of the nightmares that had been plaguing him the past few days.

"Hey, you, I wanna talk to you!" It snapped out. "I wanna talk to you about getting in my mouth..."

Without a word, Dipper pivoted back around, throwing himself forward to wedge himself between the doors. He cried out in vain, only getting himself stuck, his legs kicking uselessly as the monster approached.

"I think you wanna get in there..."

"No!" The boy twin screeched, but the word meant nothing. None of Bill's creations cared. They were all focused on one thing, whatever their purpose was, and Dipper had learned that first night that the only way to win was to outsmart them.

But he was stuck.

"Leave me alone!" He screamed, kicking and pulling, elbows smacking against the glass doors. He still couldn't move. "Go away, I gotta find my sister! My sister! I want my sister!"

His pleas only fell on deaf ears. A scream of pure terror escaped the child as a hand wrapped around one of his legs. The monster pulled with startling strength, a force so jolting, Dipper felt his breath knocked out of him. Only his upper torso was left on the other side of the doors...the safe side...his arms straining to keep him away from the monster.

Why couldn't he have been stronger? The fatigue was already settling in, what little strength he had useless to the monster's power. Power given by Bill. The demon knew what he was doing.

"No, no!" The boy twin shouted. "Please, please, Mabel! Grunkle Stan! Mabel! Please, don't! I need to find her, I need to stop Bill, I need to save my family, they-th-they-AGH!"

The twelve-year-old was left with nothing to hold as he was pulled from the doors and away from the one building that could've been a sanctuary. Something slipped from his vest and clattered to the floor, barely audible through his frantic screams and indecipherable babbling before it quickly fell silent.

Nothing could be done.

The monster was soon contently dragging itself away, a walkie talkie lying abandoned on the asphalt.

 **End**


End file.
